Hope

"Can you help her? She won't talk to anyone else, and you’re her best friend," pleaded the mother of my best friend. She had been desperate for help from anyone else and had no one to turn to but me, a 13 year old. I held a hand onto her shoulder as I saw her begin to shudder in worry.

"I'll do what I can," I tried to assure, though I had no idea what I could do.

"She's in her room." I helped her to a seat and went down the dark hallway, a feeling of terror striking me suddenly. I've walked down this hallway more times than I could keep count, but I stepped with hesitance. I've never walked down it before… not knowing what'll happen next. I reached the door to a room. No, not just a room. My friend's room.

“Cris?” I asked, lightly knocking on the door. There was a groan from the inside and I figured that was all she could do in her state. I turned the doorknob and was shocked at what I saw. It was horrific. She was lying on the floor, surrounded by her clothes and other items I dare not describe. I felt like falling to my knees at that moment, in defeat because it looked hopeless for her. But, I held my head high and walked in, closing the door behind me.

“Cris…” I whispered, fearing the sound of her name. The very name of someone I called my friend. I walked around her, and took a seat on her bed; it looked like she didn’t even use it once. I just sat there in silence with her, her face down against the floor and not even nudging once. I would’ve thought she had died if not for her groaning.

But… she was dying, on the inside. The guilt from taking pot that first time, tearing at her soul. After that, I never spoke to her again. I was there. I told her to just walk away, but she was blinded. Blinded by the words of those “cool” kids.

“Everyone does it. It’s not bad, it feels really good,” they said. They held it out in front of us, trying to get us to touch it and taint our hands of it. I was able to say “no”… but Cris. She took it. And we never spoke again until now.

“Why?” I asked, thinking she would answer. “Why did you take it? Why didn’t you try and stop? Why didn’t you say no?” I persisted, trying to get her to say an answer. But all was heard was breathing.

“I…” she rasped through her clotted hair. I looked up and listened closely. “I couldn’t…” was all she said. She didn’t have the energy to talk anymore. “You… don’t know what I went through…”

“I don’t. I was your friend for so long and I knew you kept things from me, but I won’t say it’s your fault. It’s mine for not nagging you about it,” I tried joking. Cris tiredly laughed, only to fall into a short spasm of coughing.

“You… you still make jokes even in a time… like this?” she strained to say. I nodded in answer.

“I can because… I know you’re still my friend. I know that… you can still come back. You’re still Cris to me, that’s why I can still joke with you.” For once, ever since I stopped talking to her, I saw her smile. Even if it wasn’t a big grin, it was a smile.

“How can you call me a friend or even Cris after everything I’ve done? I’ve gone too far down the wrong path… I can’t turn back,” she rasped, making me realize it wasn’t a smile, but a smirk. I stood up from her bed and walked over to the window, the curtains closed. I opened it slightly, knowing she was probably cursed by the sunlight.

"I don’t know. It’s probably because of how stubborn I am. I don't believe in 'going too far down the wrong path'… because I know there's always a way to get back to the right one. That way... is what I call hope,” I replied. Even though I couldn’t see her, I heard her sniffle, trying to hold back tears.

“Hope?” she choked. “What hope is left… for a bitch like me?”

“You don’t see it because you’re looking down the wrong way. When you walk a path, would you look back to try and remember what you did? No. You look ahead to see what’s there that you can do. When you look ahead, you can find that hope is there, guiding you the right way each time because hope doesn’t give up on you even when you do.” She was still sniffling, trying hard no to cry in front of me. She was a tough girl, just blind.

“But… but what if you can’t see it?” she choked again closer to breaking into tears. I turned to her and walked back towards the door, stopping to bend down towards her. She looked up and I was surprised that I didn’t even remember what color her eyes were. It truly was a mistake to ignore her…

“Just look hard enough… and show her that you are willing to follow,” I answered, leaving the room. Before I closed the door, I heard a voice. It wasn’t raspy or strained.

“Thank you, Faith!” it tearfully called as I closed my door. It continued to sob as I left the room. It wasn’t the girl that I just spoke to in the room. It was my best friend Cris, ready to come back again.

“I wonder which Faith she was talking to. Me or the heavens?” I thought to myself. Her mother ran up to me, grabbing my shoulders.

“Is she alright? Why is she crying?” she fearfully asked.

“They’re tears of joy and hope,” I answered, leaving the house. “I think… she was just a little lost Mrs. Belle. But, she found her guide.”

Repetitive and pretty random. I wrote this out of spur of the moment and needing to write. The title was in mind. But, not the story in particular. My friend wanted me to post it and said I shold because it was "so good!" If you read my other one shot, I bet you can guess it's the same friend. I hope you liked it, and please review. Flames will be ignored. Constructive criticism will be taken into thought. Compliments will be appreciated.